


sanctuary

by kaixo (ballpoint)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Manchester City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 13:27:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15641685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballpoint/pseuds/kaixo
Summary: prompt: just give me goalies in love





	sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> flash fic for kink meme, lightly edited b/c it's flash fic

Yeah, there might have been photos with Joe and Jack all over the media. 

Them in the shallow end of the pool the camera catching them pre drunken snog. He had rolled with the nudges and ignored the pointed winks from Milly, Kun and Kompany. Waved off the cheap shots of anything more because _whatever_. Jack the human definition of a doner kebab at 03:00 a.m., cheap and easy to consume when drunk. Forgettable enough to get over his absence when sober. 

Unlike Kasper.

Kasper sitting across from him, big and blonde as a story book bear. Aquamarine eyes bright under fair brows.

Hawksmoor restaurant. Their meals half done, fingers around his wine glass, gaze on him. Kasper living in the East Midlands now, one of those who left Man City to find his own goalmouth, to be his own man. Visited Joe in Manchester, and every time he’d rock up he just seemed bigger. Not in terms of size - because they were the same height although Kasper was heavier- but in terms of just being him.

“Are we finished?”

_No_

“Yes,” Joe said.

***

 

“Kas-”, Joe panted past cracked lips, chest expanding and contracting from the effort. Fingers twisting in, and rucking the sheets under him. The air hot and humid as open mouthed kisses. Kasper’s hand on and around him, pumping him slow and slick with spit and and come.

“Pleaseohpleaseohplease,” he babbled, twisting and squirming to force Kasper to move his hand. When it stayed like this, causing his body to arc off the sheets. Stilled, his body convulsing with the effort to be steady, because Kasper’s hand stilled on his cock.

“Joe,” Kasper’s voice in his ear. That odd over enunciation of Mancunian slant to his name, softened by its Danish lilt, at this moment, his entire world. How Kasper could do this to him, strip him to nothing but a mass tumbled and turned inside out by sensation.

Anything, anything Joe might have said, or thought. He didn’t know, so far gone, not moving unless Kasper told him to.

“Joe,” a brush lips and scratch of beard against the high point of his cheek. “Look here.”

And oh, he didn’t know his eyes had been closed. Wincing at the sting of sweat from his eyelids when he forced them open, Kasper’s face eclipsing everything else.

Eyes sliding closed when Kasper leaned in, the weight of his bulk forcing Joe deeper into the mattress. His mouth open, their tongues slick and hot. Kasper’s hand moving, fingers tightening. Joe gasping as his release raked hot and deep through him, mauling him like claws, spurting over Kasper’s hand thick and hot.

***

“What brings you here,” Joe drawled, when their bodies cooled and hearts got back to normal resting rate. It wasn’t a question, because he had an inkling.

Kasper seated on the edge of the in boxer shorts and nothing else, his muscles thrown into light and relief, because they hadn’t turned on the room light. As soon as the door closed behind them, they fell on each other like -- horny teenagers, Joe guessed. He hadn’t moved from his position on the bed, although his body was uncomfortably tacky with stink, sweat and come.

“I heard,” Kasper raised his head, eyes in shadow. “About you and Guard---”

And that was Joe’s cue to go.

As far as the shower anyway. The great thing about the Lowery? Showers big enough to hold a five a side in, if you so chose. A tiled bench so you could sit down and wash your feet, or... in Joe’s case, his legs giving way when the enormity of the situation bore down on him. The steam in the shower thick and warm enough to feel like tears. So when his own came, he didn’t need to wipe them away.

Manchester City.

A goalie was nothing without a goal, and he’d made Manchester City’s goal his. Did the graft, didn’t he, from Shrewsbury to Birmingham -and.

Wiped at his nose, looking out at nothing, really. Not surprised when Kasper sat beside him on the shower seat, as naked and wet as Joe himself.

“It’s nothing really,” Joe leaned forward, elbows on knees, angling a look at Kasper, because why not. “It’s...I mean, everything ends, yeah? It’s not as if you don’t know---”

“Yeah,” Kasper drawled. So blonde and fair that the water made his hair appear the colour of wet cream coloured silk. His moustache and beard only a few shades darker. “I know.”

Of course.

Hadn’t Joe rocked up to Man City when Kasper had been on his way out? And even though he’d been pushed out, Kasper had had time for Joe, back then, despite everything. And now, look at him, Premier League winner. His country's number one in goal. 

“I have to leave,” Joe said, and if his lips trembled and his voice wet as their surroundings... well. “Kas--”

“Joe,” Kasper’s arm gathering him close, their foreheads pressed against each other. And Joe would have been okay, you know? Just have his insides twisting and churning like a canoe in whitewater, and that would have been fine. Until Kasper spoke. 

“I’m sorry.”

Joe nodded, wiped at his eyes. “Me too,” he said.

***

“How did you do it, in the end?” Joe asked, as they sprawled across the bed, the images on the TV having as much meaning as paintings on the walls. The movie normally didn’t fail to make him laugh. Zoolander- with his Blue Steel of a gaze - but not tonight. His cheek supported by the memory foam pillow, as he looked at his friend's face. 

“Do what?”

“Leave.”

“No different from going on loan and knowing you might not come back.” Kasper answered, turning his face into the pillow, his gaze on Joe’s face. Kasper, his eyes bright and filled with sympathy for him.

“I -- God. If I --” Joe tried, words drying up. “I need to play.”

“Yes, you need to go,” and that was Kasper, his fingers tracing from Joe’s cheek, stopping at the cleft in his chin. “It’s hard, leaving a place that you consider home,” the twist of lips bitter, even now, because they both knew how it ended. “But you find new ones.”

“I know,” and in the dim light of the room, where the only source was the flickering lights from the TV. “I just...” he laughed, chest tight. “Hate change." _Love Manchester_ "But I--”

“Must,” Kasper’s fingers still on his chin, “I am not going to bullshit you, it will be hard.”

“I’d have wanted the bullshit, to be fair.”

“No,” Kasper shook his head, “you wouldn’t.”

“I could,” Joe lifted his hand, rubbing his fingers along Kasper’s beard. Taking in everything, the sweep of blonde hair away from his forehead, even in bed. The defined brows, the expression in his eyes frank and warm. “I really could, Kas.”

“You couldn’t.”

Joe nodded, their faces centimetres from each other. Joe didn’t need to answer, because Kasper knew him too well. When Kasper reached for him, Joe rolled into his arms, unresisting.

 

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> LOL, I'd forgotten I'd written this one. Whoops at me.


End file.
